


Forever King and Queen

by AkaiShinda (orphan_account)



Series: Leaves [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cardverse, Cardverse Hetalia, Ivan Braginsky appears, M/M, Mention of sex, Sexual Content, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 11:18:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/AkaiShinda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The disgraced King lights fire in the stove to warm the sturdy stone walls. Their bags, equipment and clothing is stacked in a corner, from which Arthur can’t tear his eyes away. They haven’t packed any uniforms, any stamps or stripes which might sign their previous titles. " From now on, it is only Alfred and him. / Drabble collection, occasional smut inside, Cardverse Human AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Resign

They say it’s never been a choice to make. The mark appears, you’re brought and dressed up, have a haphazardly organized ceremony and done, go ahead and take trainings which consume your mind and energy day after day. You have a kingdom to rule, if you’re queen, a king to assist and the foreign office to handle. The military, the treasury and legislation is not your business. Act politely still handle everyone in a firm way so no one dares to doubt your words. It requires a manner of fashion to master this, some queens had to get rid of all their merciful thoughts in the meantime. At all times, carry yourself with pride and withheld wisdom so people will know you are in charge.

Never. Never object your king.

Since he is the one leading the military, the treasury, the legislation and judicial branches. If you get in an argument with him, your reason must be unquestionable and solid. The king bears all on his shoulders, confusing him or mixing his emotions up for your sake is selfish and repulsive.

Even if this means, in certain times you have to let him decide the flow of your life as well.

. . .

Away from the palace, away from wealth and superstitious kindness, turquoise silk and titanium blue brooch discarded on the road, not a single stripe of bronze on the horses. The forest is silent, trees observe and witness the scene from a treacherous distance, and hence the clearing is enveloped by their shadows. Dim luminance allows the royals to settle in the only sanctuary that remained for them, to hide and return to their human self. For once, and for perhaps the last time their titles are forsaken for their own good.

_“Just for once.”_

_“I’ve never assumed you’d be the one telling me this.”_

_“Just for this one time. Please.”_

_The hall sinks into mumbling which is like the noise of flies to their ears. The queen lowers his sorrowful gaze, bites into his own lower lip from the inside and releases a sigh. Defeat and grief glows in his eyes which no longer reflect the freshness of the forests in the summer, the rich fields of grass. The spark is forlorn and the King is aware of his fears. The object of it. The magistrates, ministers and advisors sink into disagreements and arguments about the future, the war, the numbers. All forget about the humans involved. The king should lead the army here, battle there. Ambush here, devastate there. Allies are counted like sheep in the autumn. All have lost their humanity in the hall, and it makes the King shake his head in a slow, grievous realization._

_His Queen is shaken. He’s in fear from an unspoken shadow that lingers above the King’s head._

_Glancing to the side, he can spot how cold his fingers are, trembling from the anxiety that pulls his mind deeper in despair in every moment he spends in stagnancy. The mere thought of losing his King devastates him. He can’t rule alone, and Alfred knows that. He can’t lead offices, can’t deal with the troubles every day alone. The world would eat him up and spit him out in less than a month, without leaving him time to deal with the pain._

_Without him, Arthur is stumped._

_“Please,” no more than the weight of air, he’s pleading._

_“I’ll come back.”_

_“How do you know?!” That’s a reaction he’s never gotten before. Only proves him more: Arthur is on the edge. In the startle he is unable to form any reply, merely stares in the other’s eyes which burn and ache from the inside, an unbearable pain no one should feel. “You don’t know!”_

_The entire hall falls into grim silence upon the Queen’s words. Hushed gasps, treacherous murmur envelopes the royal couple. Alfred remains silent, incapable of looking at his love. The knights, ministers and all present hold their breath in the moment when all would be decided. All knows well, it depends on the king... but in this century, in the reign of Alfred F. Jones and Arthur Kirkland the future lies in the hands of both._

_They’ve always had attempts to follow the traditions but all these were forgotten in the last moments._

_“You’re riding into war but you have no idea what is to come out there!”_

_“We have a strategy.”_

_“Strategies can be discarded when all falls apart and you know that as well!”_

_His words carry the entire kingdom’s fear._

_“You have no idea what you’ve unleashed on us! You’re taking such risks for such a piteous matter that could have been solved by the tables as well, I could have handled it without you! Your foolish, blasted visions of justice will bring only fire and devastation to this land and you’re leaving me behind, alone to deal with it!”_

_“I’ll solve this, you’ll see!”_

_“I’ll see but you won’t!”_

_Three words that stow all replies he had before, back down his throat. His breath is caught. Arthur’s gaze breaks, his own breathe is sucked in order to control himself all in vain. His heart was out, in front of the whole assemble. Sentiments, emotions are brought to the platform where they were forbidden to exist._

_Alfred doesn’t remember when did he stand up but now he’s the one kneeling in front of his Queen, holding his hand and trying to calm him insufficiently. The man who’s always in control of his temper, his words and actions is falling apart in front of him along with his ambitions; he can’t bear the sight. Hearing the ragged, drained breath escape the other’s lips tears a string in his own soul. Arthur’s grieving him. He’s wearing a dark, metallic blue uniform with the coat of arms of Alfred’s family, his kingdom and his title. Spouse and Queen, he’s grieving. He can't bear the mere thought of losing him._

_And it was all the King who’s started this._

_“Then, for the Gods’ sake, I resign.”_

_Hoarse yelling, panic and bewilderment follow his words in the ceremonial hall which has been refurnished to function as a vast place for negotiations and military planning. The whole castle echoes and trembles behind his back, Arthur’s eyes widen in plain petrified bafflement a few inches in front of him. All that matters is the spark is shining its way through the thick clouds of terror, just seeing the hopeful appearance of it reassures the young King. He might lose everything, but he can’t lose his Queen._

_“Ivan has problem with my person, not with the kingdom,” he declares, words carrying his usual determination which alone rejects the mere idea of objection. “I insulted him and refused to serve him apology. I shall correct my behaviour, show proper respect and display my regret for my actions. I’ll start with my resign.”_

_He blinks and offers a weak, apologetic smile for the only person whose opinion matters. Still holding the delicate fingers in his calloused hand, he rises to stand and bow in front of his spouse, a gesture the world has never seen before. The King shall never put anyone above himself in hierarchy._

_“I hope you’ll accompany me on our last journey, my Queen.”_

_As the calmness, the fundamental certainty returns to the green eyes and Arthur has to blink to regain his composure, Alfred nods and pulls him up to stand by his side. While he’s wearing his military uniform, the black leather boots, dark blue shaded camo pants and the suit, Arthur wears his everyday official clothing... quite the opposite sides of politics as they have always been in everything. They stand, the mass of noblemen wait for their final declaration. Their only hope is Arthur’s sanity, to bring the King back and end this mad war._

_“I never swore for the customs. I meant it all. ‘Till the ocean dries, till the vanish of light in the stars, I’m following your steps, my King.’ My resign accompanies yours.”_

It is Alfred who’s lead him here and the blonde man is glad for the unknown location. The nearest village is in a day’s ride, the nearest road is in an hour’s. Here, in the hidden depths of the forest their existence will be just as uncared for as their reasons behind their decisions. The past is behind the woods, out on the fields and on the streets on the tongues of the people. Both are aware of their filthy reputation; their betrayal of duties, their pathetic escape... which saved thousands of lives.

Looking around, Arthur’s heart begins to slow its unsettled rhythm. The forest’s embrace provides them safety from now on, there’ll only be a handful of people who’ll know their location, only the trusted few from their company of friends.. including Ivan himself. With a sigh which indeed helps to ease the burden of memories, the former queen of Spades dismounts and takes his own bag from the horse to follow his spouse. From now on, this cottage will be the place they call ‘home’.

The disgraced King lights fire in the stove to warm the sturdy stone walls. Their bags, equipment and clothing is stacked in a corner, from which Arthur can’t tear his eyes away. They haven’t packed any uniforms, any stamps or stripes which might sign their previous titles. Nothing that could remind them of the past nor could grab unnecessary attention at them. The bags, including their contains are not meant to comfort them, only to provide their service. From now on, there won’t be anyone to serve them either, for which Arthur is glad.

Taking Alfred’s hand in his own in a weak attempt to warm his skin, the former Queen smiles as his eyes examine his spouse’s expression; the King who’s deep in his thoughts and of course, what else could he do, plans their future in the forest.

“We’ll be fine, dearest,” the Queen whispers, voice barely audible though there’s no need for such low tone: there’s no one nearby to overhear their words. The sound of his own utter calms the emerald-eyed man and causes the honey-blonde to sigh.

“I never wanted this. I mean... I dreamt about it. Escaping, away from politics and duties only with you, no one else. No guards, no followers, nothing. Just us. And now that I have it, I wonder if this is the way it must have happened or not?” His gaze is distant, puzzled in doubts, “I mean, the mark is still on us. I still have it, and you too.”

“Then, when our kingdom needs us again, we’ll return.”

His answer reassures the King, the shade of blue solidifies and is filled with confidence soon. The young man nods, squeezes the hand of his love and leans in to steal a short kiss, “Yes. _We_ will.”

. . .

_Ivan has forgiven them in the instant he heard their resign. By the time they reached the capital of his kingdom, he sent a group to welcome them and reassure them of safety and his intentions to establish peace again. He withdrew his army and was ready to agree in the status quo while Alfred, in the last days of his reign, bowed and apologized in front of Ivan’s entire court. To show respect and appreciation, Ivan held supper with them in the famous Hall of General Winter, dined with them and had a pleasant conversation with Alfred about everyday things._

_That night, they ceased to be royals. Alfred Jones and Arthur Kirkland, they remained._

. . .

The smile he earns is cloudless, the chuckle he hears is playful, almost childish: a sound he never heard from his usually stiff Queen. From now on, there was no etiquette to follow either. He could embrace his love whenever he wished, hug him from behind and place a gentle kiss into the crook of his neck, feel the warmth of his skin against his own and fill his lungs with his scent. No one stopped him from blowing air in the skin thus go on the nerves of his husband and earn a slap on his shoulder for it. No one scolded him for keeping Arthur in bed and not letting him go but tickle him and enjoy the laughter Arthur never rewarded anyone else but him. The shine of his eyes, the toothy smile, the content, sated puffs of air with the wild, passionate pump of his heart is enough for him to know, everything is as it should be.

If Arthur is with him and he’s able to make him happy, as long as he’s able to make him happy, Alfred will be content as well.

He surprises him in the shower and is entertained by the blush that appears on Arthur’s face. He splashes mud on him outside and initiates a mud-fight, knowing that it’ll be just them to see such an undignified scene. Cuddling under the blankets in the winter in front of the stove, he pulls him closer and functions as a pillow for Arthur to sleep on. He pinches his side in appreciation of the tummy Arthur has begun to grow (without the stress of the palace) and merely smiles at his husband’s grumbling. The more time they spend without the world, without reality, the more he loves him.

Thus, he makes love to him, heart bursting and pumping feverishly at every single time. It’s unbearable. He’s going insane with love but from the way Arthur clings to him and holds him tight, _tighter,_ in a nearly impossible way, he knows it’s mutual. He bites, Arthur nibs on his ear, he grabs and holds, Arthur’s nails draw blood on his back. His mere presence is blessing, his existence and the gift of having him in his own life is a blessing of the Gods.

. . .

They say, the mark of royals is not merely a sign who’s in charge of ruling the country. It is said to mend two halves of the same soul, often two entirely opposite sides since two person who are full on their own cannot depend on other ones. What the King lacks, the Queen will fill in.

Their love for each other is above reason, it has never meant to be explained. When the time comes, it’ll be their mutual agreements and unbreakable bond that’ll save the kingdom and establish peace again; for the foolishness of the King, the Queen shall stand and bear the consequences.

In the case of Alfred F. Jones and Arthur Kirkland, this applied to both. Losing their position, wealth and previous lives, the world decides to stamp disgrace on their names and urges the time to forget their mistakes.

Even then, deposed and left behind in the forest, in his husband’s eyes he never ceased to be Queen, nor did Alfred cease to be King for him.

_Till the ocean dries._

Till his heart stops beating.

There is only one object that recalls the time they spent in the castle. A photo of them, both sitting on their thrones beside each other; Arthur in his official every-day uniform, Alfred in the suit and his coat, one hand holding the wand with the leaf of Spades on top of it. His other hand, fingers entwined with Arthur’s hang in the air between the thrones as he points at something with the wand and Arthur has a nearly invisible smile on his lips. He doesn’t look at the subject of Alfred’s motion but at his King, eyes reflecting adornment, elated thoughts of love and unspeakable affection.

Once, they ruled an entire country.

Once, they went to war.

Once, in the history of the Kingdom of Spades, a king and a queen resigned.

For once, Alfred could tell he made decision that Arthur fully approved.

. . .

In the sanctuary, his tired breathing is embraced by Arthur’s voice. Arms locked around his shoulders, fingers brushing through his hair, the honey-blond man’s eyes slowly close as his mind drifts into the blessed sleep of afterglow. His body and mind is drained, still he craves the man beneath him. Without his touch, scent and sight he’s starving.

It is Arthur’s voice, in the entire world, that can sooth and calm him. Nothing else would give him the same relief and peace; these times the waves of his soul straighten and he’s nothing more just a relaxed, sated man who’s in harmony with his life.

 

_We reach our destination,_

_A landscape soft and white,_

_So pure the snow we crunch underfoot_

_A deceptive, calming sight._


	2. Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Sexual content.

The stone has never been known as the element that warms easily. After burning logs and keeping the fire alive for days, the tiny cottage slowly began to be comfortably warm, drawing another duty into their vision: keeping the space aired and fresh with oxygen. Their only luck was Arthur’s experience and his memories from the countryside where he’d lived before the palace, he knew the tricks to avoid too much loss of warmth even though the preparations demanded their time during which they wanted to collect as many mushrooms from the surrounding forest, as possible.

In the night, however, when the sun has long set and gone under the horizon the fireplace and the roaring flames ceased to be enough to keep their bodies warm. The wind and rain attacked from the outside, dropping and crawling on the walls of the cottage and Alfred did his best in keeping optimistic even though after two weeks of struggling for the heat, he began to think about the options they had. Being a descendant from an ancient noble family, he had accommodation for the winter but since their abandonment of the castle he hasn’t gotten familiar with the idea of returning into the world of etiquette and prescribed way of living. As for Arthur... the man way by all means in his element in this man-forsaken environment.

As time passed by and all he could do was cover their forms with furs, pelts and thick duvets still just fidgeting and creating friction for his skin and flesh to warm up, his mind wandered off to visit that particular mansion his family owned for winter-holidays. It had central heating and huge brick ovens.

Arthur took some soup into his bowl and began to eat as if it was only the beginning of autumn but Alfred narrowed his eyes at the sight of goose bumps on the mans arms and at the way his fingers trembled from cold. Putting up such an act to seem strong, this was his Arthur... the one he’s supposed to care about at all cost, regardless of price and time.

His Queen was freezing... that smooth skin was trembling, the flesh he loved to hold under his fingers was fighting for its own warmth and those lips he loved to suck and pull with his own were dry and reddened as well. His chest tightened in discomfort, watching his Queen grasping at his pride and not showing a bit of shiver that obviously shot through his whole body frequently.

And his stupid, pretentious behaviour wasn’t helping at all, nevertheless Alfred decided on initiating the object of his speculations.

“Cold, cold, cold, it’s so cold,” he stuttered, brushing his arms with the palms of his hands and shifted a little towards his spouse in anticipation of an reply, even if all he’s gotten was a low grunt.

“Yea, cold as hell.”

With a frown, the former King of Spades hummed, not quite understanding the root of the answer, “how do you know hell is cold?”

As predicted, the question caught Arthur off-guard and he flinched, acted as if it wasn’t important and gave a shrug. Pretending ignorance, the blonde stood and walked to place his bowl in the sink before facing his lover and friend with a burdened expression Alfred’s heart always ached to see. Arthur knew the subject wasn’t dropped so he shrugged again and simply sat down on the bed as if he was preparing to take his reindeer hide boots off but he never moved. Shoulders down in defeat, head tilted in sorrow and eyes cast down, all he could do was shake his head dismissively and wave with his hand, “never mind.”

“I do mind,” he responses in an instant, not even bothering to think about a smart answer.

Arthur’s sadness reflects in the dim green of his eyes and as the melancholic shade casted at him, the King takes a deep breath.

“It’s cold, because you won’t be there.”

Yet again, the answer he got is confusing; Alfred frowned and reached to pull on his lover’s arm and draw his attention on himself, only to earn a weak, apologetic smile in return, “I’m sorry, darling, I’m just...”

“Why would you be there?”

Arthur’s painful frown clenched the dark-blonde’s heart into a grip that didn’t let him rest any longer. He climbed from the comforters’ cover and forced the cold needles of air out of his mind only to be closer to his love and probably, if Arthur was in the right mood as well, pull the roots of his sorrow out of him... but judging from the eyes displaying distant thoughts and a secretive smile behind his iris, the bespectacled man only sighed.

“No, seriously, why would you be in hell? What makes you think you’d belong there, and not to heaven?”

Hearing the troubled sigh that is meant to be a sign to inform Alfred of his husband ‘not being in the mood’, the man only shifted a few inches to be right next to his love and began to envelope him into his arms by starting to caress his back in a soothing, reassuring way. For sure it helped, the next sigh is less drained and flat and Arthur glanced in his direction but not at him.

“I am a reason...” he whispers, drawing Alfred’s attention at his lips and the man feels the need to pull him even closer to comfort, but instead forces his mind to focus and tenderly take his Queen into his arms, suddenly surprised as well by the lack of resistance. Something was definitely going wrong.

“Continue, dear,” he mumbled into his ear and stood up with the man in his arms only to place him on the bed and lie down with him to tug him gently under the pelts and duvets. Arthur was slightly distracted by the flow of events however he welcomed his embrace and listened to the rhythmic beat of Alfred’s heart for a while before pulling away, still unable to make eye-contact. The frown on the King’s forehead wasn’t easing still all he could do was keeping his husband close and wishing to help his heavy thoughts by his closeness.

“I’m a reason a kingdom lost its king. I deserve to be there.”

Another deep breath, Alfred took Arthur’s chin into the palm of his hand to turn the man’s face and give a kiss onto his forehead, “no way. You are a reason a country was saved from bloodshed. You are a reason we all are safe and sound, together.”

The silence was in the least comforting, even though he saw the slightly easing gloominess in the green eyes; Arthur blinked and swallowed with tightly held teeth. With his thumb, Alfred stroked underneath his eye and shifted closer to him by lifting his thigh to rest between Arthur’s legs and with his hand to pull his waist tighter to his form. His Queen, gorgeous and young, free from duties still worn from the burdens he took on his shoulders.

“If it wasn’t me...”

“I’d be dead,” then, after a pause, “and you know this too.”

The ice cracked and broke, the gates opened and all of a sudden Arthur turned his gaze at him, eyes tearing up from the inside and watering, desperation erupting from his voice, “I wouldn’t bear that, never. Don’t even talk about that,” his voice hitches at the end. Shaking his head and chasing the pain away as much as he could, Arthur lifts his arms to cling to his husband and pull his figure on top of him, covering his own and from the forcefulness tangled with his despair all Alfred could do was embrace him and hold him tightly against his body, burying his face into the crook of Arthur’s neck.

“I was so afraid, I was breaking from the inside, I thought I had a fatal wound in my heart that left me alive till the day you’re gone and never come back, I couldn’t even think, I couldn’t—“

Fingers brushing his hair and gripping tight while having another hand holding his toned shoulders and literally crawling on his skin, Alfred pursed his lips and pressed them into his lover’s skin as well. It was all him who’s started this and all he’s gotten was pushing himself and Arthur into irresolvable agony. One of them unable to heal from the mere thought of losing the other to war and the weight of hatred pulsed by the country, the other to bear the wound he’s caused to his own spouse. To his better half... his better, heart-broken half, muttering harrowing confessions of love into his ear he’s never lipsed before, voice shaky and still soft from the fierceness of his affection.

“You are my heart and my sanity, how could I ever live without you, without seeing you, touching you, hearing you, if you’re not there I’m nothing I’m just a fragment nothing more, oh God, how could I ever... I don’t dare imagine a world without you, it’s mortifying, what could I ever do without you...”

The words, the meanings, a broken sigh left his lips when Arthur pushed him away enough to take his cheeks into his hands and look in his vivid blue eyes before pulling him back for a breath taking, mind clearing kiss. Maybe this was all they needed.

“I love you so much; I’m dying from the thought of losing you.”

Breathing his sincerity, his pain and burning lust to have more of him, Alfred feels his own need grow in the lower part of his abdomen. If he was cold a few minutes ago, now he was shrugging a few pelts off to take his woollen shirt off and reach to help his spouse out of his as well. It wouldn’t matter now if they felt the air reaching between them when he took Arthur’s form into his hands and held him tight, stroke down his ribs and back and caught his Adam’s apple between his lips to suck on it all his rational thoughts vanished. The withheld gasp he earned pulled his lips up to nibble on his dearest’s lips and gently bite on him before leaning in to push his groin to Arthur’s own. The aching crave was drowning him from inside.

He didn’t know what to do with his hands. They were everywhere on Arthur, still nothing was enough to calm his desire to have all of him; gripping, holding, caressing, until the man himself didn’t stop him from this pre-mature grinding he wasn’t aware of it at all but Arthur demanded his attention to be turned elsewhere. Their sudden need for relief, both emotional and carnal was suffocating. He was so gorgeous. Fragile still unbreakable, lithe but strong with that noble line of his cheekbones and jaw and the soft silky mops of unruly hair, Alfred let his heart and soul sink into the adoration of his husband he couldn’t put into words but actions. He couldn’t ease his pain by words but he can show him very well how much he returns his affections. Their ready arousals were pressing hotly to each other, dripping and messing their skins that drew new jolts of pleasure through their veins while Alfred pressed his forehead to Arthur’s and moaned in the kiss.

He stroked and kissed the light hair leading from his chest and to his waistline but couldn’t finish his plan since he’d been pulled up again to occupy Arthur’s lips, neck and the soft part below his ear with passionate, open mouthed kisses and licks, sucking and occasionally biting into his skin, his nose full of the scents. His hair was washed by the essence he made from blueberries, his skin by the cheap soap of the nearby town still it remained soft and kept its own fragrance. He kissed it all away and sucked it into his mind.

When Arthur’s fingers circled around his member and held it together with his own, Alfred couldn’t help but release a throaty, masculine growl to withhold his release and remembered to reach underneath the man’s hip and pull his waist up to match the line of his figure. In harmony and having Arthur as close as possible for that particular lovemaking, Alfred pushed his hips forward and thus  brushed Arthur’s erection with his own, all surrounded by Arthur’s palm. By the rhythmic flexing of his muscles, the way he squeezed his eyes shut and left small puffs of air at his ear, Arthur stroked up and down on the man’s well toned back, pressing his hand tight to the muscles and scars, remnants of the warrior’s past. The jerks of Alfred’s hips began to be faster and urging, pushing Arthur’s entire body up  little by little on the bed as he clung close and practically thrusting their ready arousals to release. He loved his strength. It was fascinating, caught his breath and left him without any other thought just awe and love. If he was prepared for their lovemaking beforehand, it would be him being slammed by every thrust, Alfred’s member inside him to its base and he’d pray to the Gods to let him just die in that euphoria.

His heart couldn’t contain it anymore.

Squeezing his eyes shut and releasing a silent gasp with a high-pitched voice that could only be heard by Alfred, the Queen tightened his hold on his lover and shuddered through his orgasm, several waves of pleasure washing through his mind and body while Alfred bit into the base of his neck and came not long after. Breathing long and deep, it didn’t take long until the last drops of their sex were pooling in Arthur’s naval and Alfred bent down to clean his husband’s stomach with the tip of his tongue, licking and sucking their semen off and swallowing both to leave Arthur’s skin shine in the light of fire, glistening from his saliva. His husband, lover and the meaning of his life was panting slightly with hooded, mesmerizing green eyes and barely blinked in the mist of the afterglow. As a reward he accompanied him and buried him under his form again, hugging him tightly and brushing the nape of his neck with his calloused fingers. Behind closed eyes he listened to the frantic but slowly steadying thumps of the blonde’s heart with the full knowledge of it, beating only for him.

He didn’t know when exactly but Arthur managed to pull the duvets and furs back on them and brushes his dark-blonde hair with his fingers in a tranquilizing way which pulls all Alfred had to say into a flow of serenity. The Queen of Spades, leaving his blue hat and stamps of the leaf behind now lay hot and sweaty underneath him and Alfred knew everything will be just alright.

With muffled voice, his tone was swallowed up mostly by Arthur’s right upper arm hugging his face and head to be able to stroke his hair, informs the slightly smaller man about his plan.

“We are leaving to my family’s winter mansion.”

“Huh?”

“To Wallen Stronghold. Tomorrow.”

“Oh.”

He had no time to explain it further... his mind dragged him deeper and with the gentle stroked in his hair, his head and shoulders hugged by the dearest person to his heart, the former King of Spades sank into sleep.

He was not going to let Arthur feel cold.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like I found inspiration for this fic again. I'll drop by short drabbles occasionally, let me know what you think! :)


	3. Sing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: sexual content

“You sure you locked everything? Even the cellar?”

The impatient tapping of hooves on the floor distracted him enough to turn around with the horse to sooth and calm it with a gentle caress on its neck. The mare shook its head again when it realized the distracting trick but the lithe man on his back ignored the animal for the time being to search for his partner’s appearance at the door. The warrior, once a mercenary who wandered all kingdoms and what is beyond them now cleared his throat and took the leather bag on his shoulder when he exited the cottage. His armour long forsaken, titles and fine silk abandoned back in the palace, Alfred wore only a linen shirt with hide-jacket on top and yet Arthur remembered the time when the young hero had much better clothing and equipment to face the elements. With a sigh that carried his usual sorrowful thoughts now regretted the decision he made several years ago with such forcefulness that he had to cast his eyes down and away from the bright man who locked the door and slipped the key into his pocket, ready to leave.

“I’m done. We can go, Art,” and with that easy move he mastered over a decade ago, Alfred got on his own horse and with an adventurous wink and a polite motion of his hand let Arthur lead for the time being.

The horse was rented from the nearby town where they had no clue of the new hermits’ identities. They travelled in quiet and secret, covered by their dirty old clothes and looks, carried by rented horses with worn equipment. It wasn’t supposed to be like that.

Alfred had had his own warhorse he earned through hardships, won the animal as loot after a battle he survived. And he wasn’t even seventeen at that time. The horse was gigantic, black and simply divine, even when Arthur saw it he was merely standing with his jaw open and mind slowly processing the sight into his memory. The mare had long, strong legs and carried itself with such might that its mere appearance took breaths. And it loved Alfred. Even if it was at least three feet higher than the boy, Llamrei would have been ready to give his life for his young master since Alfred cared about him with such gentleness that the cruel warhorse openly accepted the mercenary’s person into its heart.

And Alfred in his full chrome-steel armour that glistened in the sun rays, sitting on the back of that horse with the giant blade on his back was a sight Arthur mourned.

He didn’t need that crown. Without that too, Alfred was majestic and carried a lazy still confident air with himself that simply everyone liked to have around. Bright smile, knowing, playful blue eyes, the people accepted him everywhere so easily even if upon introducing his friend... love... and now, husband, all eyes seemed to measure Arthur up and down. His worthiness. His looks. His talents.

As if he had one.

. . .

The journey was spent in peaceful quietness, occasionally stirred by Alfred’s gentle humming when a song entertained his thoughts. The times he sang, always fully sunk with the lyrics and sentiments carried by the melodies, whatever audience he had just watched and drunk his words like the softest wine they ever tasted. He knew hundreds of songs from all parts of the world in several languages and tones, from tranquilizing lullabies to fierce call of battles. Arthur frowned at the sudden realization that he nearly forgot how pleasurable and masculine Alfred’s voice was at the same time... he didn’t sing anything for so long. Never in the palace. Never since the palace, until now.

“Sing for me, love,” he nudged at his jaw in that evening. The tavern underneath the floor has already settled into an intoxicated, muffled murmur beneath them while the former royalties lay still on their worn mattress, Alfred’s hand gently resting on the blonde’s waist while the lithe man lay half on top of him. Examining and adoring his husband’s features, Arthur’s fingers caressed the unruly mop of hair at his forehead. Still so young, not a single spot of imperfection on his face with the rather masculine cheekbones and strong line of jaw... not to mention his radiant blue eyes from which Arthur couldn’t get enough. It took his breath, shook the very base of his soul and reminded him every time in the latest months that he wouldn’t be able to live without seeing these vivid sky-coloured eyes each and every day. And the thought that he was just a breath away from losing them clenched his heart bitterly.

The request pulled a small, sincere smile on the young man’s lips, exhausted still sated eyes meeting admiring green ones. Alfred was not used to this openly displayed affection from Arthur; he chuckled in embarrassment and accepted the nudging he got at his ear only to blow into Arthur’s neck with his lips and enjoy the sound of laughter he earned.

“What should I sing for you?” He asked, voice raw from tiredness.

“Something. Anything that comes to your mind,” sighing with growing peace in his chest, now that Alfred stroked up and down on his waistline and ribs, Arthur placed his cheek on the man’s collarbone and played with the dark-blonde chest hair which rose and sank in harmony with the warrior’s breaths. Just by listening to his beloved’s heart eased the guilt from his veins, heavy thoughts that were not supposed to be known by his spouse.

 Alfred’s pulse was steady and slow, comforting and relaxing like the gentle beat as it was to Arthur’s ears and soul and when the former king took a deeper breath and cleared his voice to speak up again, the smaller man shut his eyes close to grasp on the last seconds of this peaceful moment.

“I’m afraid you wouldn’t hear much. I’ll just hum something for you if that is...”

“Sure.”

The songs he knew... of love, friendship, nature and life... one man, one life with so many memories and experiences, Arthur found himself admiring just the mere age of his love and the amount of places he had seen before, the hundreds of people he had met...

Then the sign appeared on his back and both of them had to leave all they had in their lives behind.

“Remember the time I told you, when I was in the South at Dreaming Stronghold, before leaving Hearts?” Arthur nodded as the images and tales came back from his memory, before glancing up on his husband only to witness the rare and memorable sight when Alfred had his nostalgic, longing minutes. He wanted to travel, oh, how badly he wished to return to his previous life... living the freedom of the mercenary he used to be.

“Yes, I remember.”

“I think I told you about the Elder of that village, he refused to trade clear water with the nearby village because his daughter was...” the dark-blonde glanced down only to check Arthur’s agreement, indeed he remembered. “Good, well he introduced us a lady from the South, Adrianne who told a lot about the forests and the people who live there like herself. She taught us this in her language, I liked it a lot, I hope you’ll like it too. It’s nice and... I hope you’ll get what I want to tell you.”

His warrior, merciless hero of battles...  getting a poetic vein?

The blonde shifted even closer and didn’t hesitate to nuzzle up at his love’s jaw affectionately; appreciating the way Alfred hugged his waist with both hands and pressed him tightly to his own hips.

“Come a little closer first, I can’t see you,” the King teased with a smile.

Arthur had to chuckle at that and reward him with a light caress on his chest, fingers brushing above the nipples. There wasn’t even an inch between their skins and yet the other was demanding even more. So greedy.

“Serves you right, having grown so tall,” he stuck his tongue out at Alfred and chuckled again when their eyes met in a cheerful, pleasant moment, both smiling just from the joy of their union.

“Or you’re the short one,” his voice chimed and played in Arthur’s heart and since the man couldn’t resist this cheerful and slightly teasing tone he forced himself up a little to have his forehead at Alfred’s ear and with the his full attention on himself. That was when he realized that Alfred immediately took his hand and it was suddenly clear why he wanted him a bit higher up on himself. Fingers entwined, the hero sniffed from Arthur’s hair and smiled into it, humming gently to revive the melody of the song he was about to sing. “Hmm, hmm, up in Wallen Stronghold you’ll be warm again. There are some nice forests you can hunt in too...”

Having him so close only stirred his desire to touch him; Arthur took his fingers away to cup his lover’s chin into the palm of his hand and kiss the line of his jaw in front of him. The stubble Alfred had tickled his own as he whispered quietly “it’s been a while, since the last time I hunted.”

“Mhm,” and this was it.

Alfred hugged him close, pinned him down to his own body and gave another kiss among the soft, unruly blond hair. The moment drew long like Arthur’s caress down from the toned, chiselled chest to the abs that flexed in withheld desire, arching to meet his touch.

“Sing,” a utter, barely audible, merely a pleading breath left his lips which were soon occupied with kisses, filled with lust and affection. The low warmth in his abdomen stirred and caught on fire so easily, it ran through his veins and caught him by an instinctive force. He began pulling Alfred’s arm around his own figure, urged him to shift their position and turn them so that Alfred would be above him, cover his form with his and let his eyes have the sight consisting only of Alfred. His neat locks of hair, blue eyes stormy with desire and the teasing shine of the knowledge that he knew exactly what to do and where to touch Arthur to drive him into a hazy yet wild state of existence.

“Sing,” he sighed into the skin and pulse, gripping tight on the strong muscles beneath, pulling and crawling with his fingertips as Alfred bit into his neck and pressed into him, hips and groins together. Already on top of him, the warrior took a deep breath from the skin and soft hair below the blond locks, taking Arthur’s ribs and sides into his palms. Thinner but just as strong a body as his, unharmed skin moved along with his desire, arching from the mattress in a nearly artistic line to meet the man’s lips and let him kiss his chest on the middle, take a breath from there too and savour it long in his nose, drawing it up with a thin line of his tongue and release it into Arthur’s mouth in a hungry yet lazy kiss.

He was already between his legs, their crotches meeting and pressing together in a slow passionate grinding, Arthur’s legs parting to let his spouse be closer and let him pull his figure up into his lap by holding his waist. The warrior even chuckled upon the sight when he glanced up and saw Arthur’s hands and arms above his head, slutty and carefree as ever, only with him. The sentiment had Alfred smiling and he bent to press their bodies together again, hug his beloved and catch his breath by giving an open-mouthed kiss to his neck. Oh, he knew and remembered the first time he ever kissed that pale crook; he had even bit into it gently and licked before kissing it several times more. How much Arthur loved it. His breath hitched just like now, but Alfred remembered the chanting, pleading and the gripping fingers in his hair, the desperate voice, _“my neck, my neck, ah, Alfred, my neck.”_

Below his ears, the skin was soft as the heated duvet in the mornings with the warmth of their bodies and their scents mingled. No matter how many times he had his scent and touch, no matter how many times he had indulged all his senses with Arthur, his chest always ached and begged to have him as close as physically possible.

“Sing for me, my love,” the breath hot in his ear, heavy with lust and affection flooding his mind, Alfred reached down to free his hard erection and as yesterday, hold it together with Arthur’s.

“I suppose you’re not clean,” clouded sky-blue eyes meeting green, the blonde shook his head.

“Should’ave but... didn’t have the peace.. just... oh, now I need you,” he pressed his head back and shut his eyes as the waves of pleasure ran through his mind and entire body, trembling from the need to have his husband fill him up and make love to him in that instant. Just from the memories, he was writhing, shaky breaths leaving his lips while his hooded eyes skimmed Alfred’s entire body, “God, I need you now.”

Even in these moments, especially in these moments Alfred’s mind registered the need for lubricant; he reached for their travelling bags and buried his hand deep in his to pull a thin bottle out, not longer than his index finger, “should be enough for tonight.”

“Hurry up,” Arthur demanded, voice not trembling a bit at all, fingers touching his own erection instinctively while his eyes devoured the sight of the warrior who was shimming out of his pants and quickly gathered a condom, fingers trembling from the haze settling all over his thoughts. His own urgency was conquering his lover’s mind as well. “Lazy arse...”

“Why do you even put up with me..?” He whispered gently with a smile on his lips, the dark-blonde returned and placed Arthur’s knees up onto his shoulders to ease the weight off his body.

“Exactly,” the Queen nodded and took a deep breath when the young man coated his entrance with the oil and soon enough the first finger entered him. He leaned into the touch, arched for it and forced his body into relaxation, concentrating and melting into the caring strokes.

He moaned, his own fingers brushed through hair and he moaned again, urging the other to feed his desire as best he could although he hadn’t loosened up enough to take Alfred’s erection yet. It took minutes and two more fingers, Alfred’s lips around his cock and sucking him off, pleasing his senses with humming, breathing and licking him, occasionally releasing his length only to take it into his mouth again and his tongue tease him around the head. He was a mess. The Queen was a moaning, gripping mess, depending on the King’s mercy and whimpering his name while his heart raced and thumped, leaving him breathlessly calling Alfred’s name and shiver at the loss of his fingers. As quickly as he could, the dark-blonde applied the condom and spat the tip of the package out to look back at his love, as ready as ever.

This was a sight Alfred never ceased to love and enjoy, when he bent and enveloped Arthur into a tight hug and pressed his entire body against him, kissing him as the lithe man’s knees fell from his shoulders just right into the hold his elbows, their hard erections sliding against one another. Just a quick brush with his lips against Arthur’s throat, the man sighed warmly into the skin and behind closed eyes imagined and completed the act they yearned for the most.

One hand reached down and took his own cock to guide it under Arthur’s parted legs, beneath his erection, pressing it and line it up against him, knowing that Arthur will arch his bottom up to match his angle, breathing hard still drowning in the overwhelming tides of his senses. He gulped at the first inch, Arthur bit into his lower lip and kept his gasp back.

Oh, Alfred knew he’ll bring it forth.

He started to shift closer, rolling his hips and with a grunt brought himself inside to fill Arthur up, even if that caused a sudden sting of pain to his spouse but meet him in a hungry, bone-melting kiss that drew the blonde’s attention away from the stretching of his insides. He leaned in and nibbled softly at the man’s neck while Arthur embraced his shoulders and held him tight, sighing and moaning into his ear when he was ready as well.

He growled at the first thrust, soon starting with heavy breaths and apologetic kisses into the crook of the blonde’s neck although they both knew why their need was so apparent. It had been a while since they had this kind of sex, the thorough, deep and upmost intimate one that filled the room with their scents and moans, Arthur’s small sighs with Alfred’s every trust and the soon dripping sweat of the men’s skin sliding against one another.  He rocked his hips, gently, fast, slow, steady, all as he liked and pleased his lover, pressing into his warmth.

“Ah, now...”

Arthur’s hands closed around Alfred’s shoulders to pin him down on himself, one hand climbing up to grip into his hair and urge him to thrust into him faster and send jolts of sensation and pleasure through his entire body. He was doing it right. It felt so, by the strong pull of Arthur’s fingers. He licked Alfred’s jaw in appreciation, holding onto him as if his entire life was depending on the man, being filled with him up to his base and having him inside then out only to have the torture of absence and the firm, swift slamming of Alfred’s hips. He felt the King’s entire body flex with each thrust, he could feel and imagine the way his muscles tighten under the skin at his abs and deliciously round ass. He reached down to grab him and pull him closer, knowing that the possessive act will only encourage Alfred even more. He loved when Arthur grabbed him at places during their lovemaking.

“Oh, Arthur.”

He was getting close. He released Arthur’s knee and dug with his hand beneath him to lift and arch him off the mattress and squeeze him tighter, letting his weight down on the man and reaching between their bodies to skim his hand down and around Arthur’s cock. Next time, he’ll suck him longer. He wanted to see him coming while his fingers will grip in his hair, pressing the nape of his neck down then with slightly hooded eyes taking Alfred’s cheeks into the palms of his hands to keep him there while he moaned his name, heart racing desperately among his ribs.

“Oh, _oh,_ God! Alfred!”

And there all his restrained control vanished. With a sudden force he tightened his hold on Arthur’s figure and shifted with his legs even closer to have swift but thorough thrusts into the man, his cock sliding in and out to brush the smaller man’s prostate with each push. His rhythm increased to have quicker penetrations, chased their release and when the muscles in his stomach flexed to withdraw his own one, he slowed to have the deep, cherishing thrusts. Leaning in to rest his forehead on Arthur’s, the king let small puffs of air meet his husband’s and even had a torturous smile on his lips when he realized the synchrony of their breaths. Arthur was desperately clinging to him, fingers brushing and grasping him forcefully, eyes closed and completely lost in the passion, mumbling dirty under his nose. Nothing was enough, never. Just for a few minutes he gathered Arthur’s fists and held them under his own, gripping and putting his weight on their tightly entwined fists as he thrust into him, swift but firm slams of his hips that made the only sound in the room, their ragged breathing aside. Behind his close eyes Alfred could picture and see clearly how Arthur bit into his own lower lip and sucked on it as the throaty moan refused to escape from his lips. He groaned instead and squeezed his eyes shut.

Alfred couldn’t hold it back anymore. The images and thoughts were too much to contain for his heart and body. He came, entire body flexing and relaxing at the same time, spasms of pleasure raging through his veins from the bottom of his spine into his skull and into all of his members. He couldn’t take control again for another long minute, pushing and thrusting in to ride all waves out and sigh into Arthur’s ear. He ruined it all, he wanted to have his orgasm with Arthur but the Queen moaned and still clung to him, demanding his strength that was suddenly drained from the warrior’s body. He had to stroke him to release with his still hard cock from the inside and with his fingers encircled around Arthur’s dripping, begging erection. Both ways... greedy.

“You’re the worst,” he mumbled softly, kissing the drops of sweat off Arthur’s forehead and gave a long kiss onto his lips as well, palm cupping the man’s jaw, knowing that it’ll take their breath away completely. The blonde’s arms held him close and when Arthur’s orgasm struck, he gasped and breathed in deep only to release it with ragged puffs and moan into the other’s mouth. He nibbled and bit on Alfred’s lips, fully lost in the pleasure. The nibbling gentled into hungry, satisfying kissing to cherish each other’s closeness and the lovemaking they just had, spontaneous and natural, fierce like an instinct still an act they never intended to deny from themselves. As long as Arthur was hot and sweaty from pleasure between his arms, Alfred knew everything was right.

He pulled off and discarded the condom, only to return to his love and keep the heat of their bodies between them. The musky scent of their sex was very much apparent on their skins and just by breathing it in constantly, digging his nose into Arthur’s neck and gently nudging at his hear, Alfred knew they will have to take another bath. For the time being he just let his mind sink in the real afterglow, the satisfaction of having Arthur sated and warm underneath himself and feeling his fingers draw circles on his back and shoulders in a mindless, caring manner.

“Sing, my love,” Arthur breathed, fingers drawing uncharted paths into Arthur’s hair and on his shoulder blades.

“How could I forget...?”

. . .

Their bodies fit. Junction to junction, hard and soft parts, they completed each other just by lying on a mattress together and savouring the moments of their peace. Their hearts beat in synchrony, thumping feverishly and so passionately even when their muscles and members were so tired to perform any move that all Arthur could do is caress his spouse’s skin with his hands and wish his pulse and heart to calm. Alfred was there, his head right beside him, hair tickling Arthur’s cheeks when he turned to check if the other had fallen asleep, but he hadn’t.  He was just relaxing, mind empty still fully mended with him, limbs and arms not moving an inch just embracing his form and keeping him close. His breathing was so quiet and slow, Arthur had to stay perfectly still to sense it... but indeed, Alfred’s chest pushed into his, his back rose and sank in such a peaceful way that pulled a happy, loving smile on the Queen’s lips.

They will be alright. Alfred wouldn’t leave him behind... he never did. By the rings of matrimony, by the strings of fate and the undeniable need for each other, they were strongly bound. And by all means, Arthur would follow the man everywhere their roads might lead.

. . .

In the moment of peace, a raw and deep voice broke the quietness.

_“Rest your tired eyes now,_

_For you’ve all the time you need._

_To ponder the universe’s wonders,_

_To lay amongst the reeds.”_

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poem from Perfect World International, G18 Nirvana forges, weapon section.  
> Comments are appreciated! Let me know what you think! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Poems from Perfect World International, G16 weaponry at Nirvana forges.


End file.
